Domination, Compromise, Integration
by drufan
Summary: Reaction tag for Outcast. With compromise, neither side gets what it wants.


_A/N: This is a reaction tag for Outcast. Loved that episode. Finally learned a little more about my favorite character. Whoo-hoo! _

_Summary: With compromise, neither side gets what it wants._

_Disclaimer: Tain't mine. I'll try and remember to put them back how I found them. _

**Domination, Compromise, Integration**

"John."

Sheppard remembered his father sitting in his oversized winged chair in the study, hands pressed together, and fingers tapping against one another. Supreme disappointment had been etched into the fine wrinkles of his forehead. His eyes had been narrowed into a searching gaze, trying to understand the lunacy of his son.

"What's this I hear about you joining the…the…_military?" _The double "thes" were the only hint at a flustered disposition in this stoic man. "You realize you will have to do more than just pilot airplanes, don't you? If that's all you want…we can go see Rob in New York and…"

His father never understood the obsession. If it did not involve horses, Wall Street, or wine, then it was not important. Buying a personal jet for his son to play with was par for the course. Throw a little money at the problem and it will be pacified enough to not bother him anymore, submit.

Plus, the way he said, "_military",_ sounded just like a Southerner saying Yankee, like they had a mouth full of shit. The military, according to the Sheppards, was a last resort if a young man could not find anything else, because he was a complete and utter screw-up. It definitely was not a first choice or a second or anywhere near the top ten. But the military had something that you could not get anywhere else. It had really fast aircraft that could outrun any personal prejudices and a domineering father. It was a place to start over, become someone new, suppress preconceived expectations.

Funny thing was: he ended up in helicopters. He could have flown helicopters anywhere, but unlike commercial models, these machines could take out a tank and carry injured men to safety. It was a chance to prove himself on a much more rigorous scale and he had loved every minute of it.

Besides, the lunacy eventually introduced him to an even sweeter ride: the Puddle Jumper, which he could really use right about now. The trek back to the Gate seemed longer since he was injured. And he had had to leave the rest of his team behind to fend for themselves with a few frightened and battered villagers. It smacked of failure. Maybe he should have gone into the corporate world instead of the Air Force like _Dad _had wanted. Maybe he should have compromised.

John took another step towards the Gate leaving a bright red footprint outlined on the hard-packed earth. He took another and another because he had to prove his father wrong. Corporate life was not for him, even twenty years later. There were things more important than whether the DOW went up or down.

There were people that he could rely on like no others in his life and that relied on him. He was part of something bigger than the strength of the dollar, what kind of car you rode in the backseat of, or how many houses you had all over the world. He was part of a team. Something his father never understood. In his family's world, it was all about what the individual could amass. It was about who you knew. Maybe that was unfair, but that was how it had seemed at eighteen.

It had been a standard ambush. Not only were the Replicators decimating entire worlds, the Wraith consuming the rest, and the odd, natural disaster getting tossed in…there were opportunists rampaging and taking out what little remained, meaning the little guy.

His team…

"Weird readings as in weird readings, Sheppard," Rodney had said.

"The Glynn should have greeted us by now," Teyla added while looking down the path that led to the village. She placed one hand on the base of her back and bent slightly backwards in a stretch. "They knew I was coming."

Ronon just nodded his head as his eyes scanned the surrounding trees and underbrush. His hand hovered over his weapon, waiting.

"Rodney, can you be a little more specific?" John asked. Vagueness, while a job hazard, was a very dangerous element in their world. "This is just supposed to be a run to the store."

"I'm getting life signs that come and go…coming from that way." Rodney had pointed down the path. He fiddled with the PFD until the very end, until it went flying from his hand.

John had left home to take off into the wild blue yonder and now he was limping along the road to hypocrisy. His borrowed mantra from the Marines-- leave no man behind-- jeered from up on high, because he had left many behind, some even on purpose, which included his family and, at this very moment, his team. As luck would have it, it never started out that way; it just ended that way. Dad would have been so proud at his practical choices. His designs for John's future integrated into his son's command decisions.

"Sometimes, son, you have to cut the chaff from the wheat…" Dad had loved to quote Scripture when it suited him. John never went to church because of the hypocrisy of his father that seemed to be rubbing off with alacrity as he got older. He quoted movies like the _Princess Bride _because it was not profane. He wanted to believe that he was what he preached, even if it did not always hold true.

"At least it's not raining," John whispered with a nod to Mel Brooks. He swallowed, his mouth very dry, and took his next step on the path. Dots mirrored his movements much farther back and it did not look like any were this far up the road: a small consolation.

His team was hidden, for now…Ronon's weapon (the only weapon that would consistently slow the things down) their main defense. John had quickly showed a villager how to use the P90, just in case. He left them in relative safety.

Since Teyla had been taking care of Rodney, applying pressure with every ounce of her strength, this had left the mostly mobile John to go get help and it twisted in his gut, like a knife, to leave them. They hadn't known the extent of his injuries. He had kept the laceration out of eye line. Ronon could hold the creatures off and John knew he could go get help. He couldn't pull Teyla from applying the pressure to keep Rodney alive and at her current stage of pregnancy, she moved slower than the rest of them. John knew he would not have lasted long with her task. The walk to the Gate gave him purpose and drive. He would do it for them.

He would do anything for them.

He had walked away from his first family on purpose. He had been tired of the fighting, the undermining and the constant reminders of what he would be leaving. Dad had meant well, but John could only take so much silence and eye rolls when he talked about what he was learning; what he wanted to be.

Now, like then, it seemed every shadow held an enemy. His father's ambushes at the dinner table were very memorable. "So, John, you even considering college or you just going to go straight in? Do you think you can just sit back and hide from responsibility?"

As he crept along from tree to tree, his eyes watched for any slight differential. Anything. According to his device, they might have not made this far out of the village, but he would not just assume. They had not showed up clearly before, but that might have been distance.

"Did they seem different, stronger?" Rodney had whimpered as Teyla pressed the first of many bandages on his abdomen. "Before I only received a cut on the forehead. This time they tried to disembowel me!"

They had pushed Sheppard down to get to Rodney. Tossed him aside like an annoyance to be disregarded. They were trying to sever the brain from the body. Ronon had killed the beast before it could finish its job, but not before seriously wounding his teammate.

When John stood up, he realized the thing had slashed him from his side to his back. He had a truly Rodney moment thinking upon that which could be living on the unsanitary claw and now transferred into his open wound. He had shuddered and had grabbed a gauze out of his vest pocket.

He took another step away from his team. Teyla could not keep Rodney going forever. Dad had to understand. Dad had to be shown what his wayward son could do. Why did it matter right now, though? It was not like he had been looking for his father's approval in almost twenty years. It was not like his father could even give it anymore.

He had not taken the command of Atlantis because he was still running from the life his father had planned for him. The leadership of an entire city/base was just the type of assignment that his Dad would have wanted for John.

So, John was afraid of liking it, wanting it, enjoying it…he had had the command of the base for three weeks and it had tasted good. However, his innate desire to buck the wishes of a now deceased patriarch reared up and John let the position go with a jaunty little wave.

The Stargate rising in the distance interrupted his reverie. He was almost there with no enemy in sight, except for himself. He was his own worst enemy. It had not been just Dad's disappointment, but John's desire to just be done with the fighting. So he left and did not look back.

The shadow to his left moved and then it erupted with exoskeleton hinged limbs. Mandibles clicked and pincers snapped shut around his arm, flinging him down the road. It leaped at him. The P90 rat-a-tatted, shredding its abdomen mid-flight. The creature landed on John's legs, flailing and screeching. Kicking his legs to get out from underneath, a large claw sliced down the side of his leg. He kicked again, freeing himself, so he could deliver his final shot to the head.

"Skeet shooting, Dad," Sheppard hissed. "See, I do need some of those skills." He laughed to himself, leaving behind a bitter taste. He rose up out of the blood and gore and continued to salvation.

The man-bugs were playing with him. Hunting him. Staying out of scanner range. He hated bugs. Especially those bugs, on this planet. The Glynn didn't deserve this. The Taranians hadn't deserved this. Bodies mutilated, drained of life, and piled high like laundry. Women, screaming for dead children, husbands, and others, kneeled in the dirt keening for the dead, for themselves. Superb carpenters now reduced to whimpering globs of humanity and it was all the expedition's fault.

They were here to pick up a crib for Teyla's son. A nice visit with a nice people interrupted by violence and death-- a reminder of a folly from the not too distant past.

The bug-men had been slaughtering the Glynn as his team stood on a small hill looking down into the village. The shock of the scene stunned them at first-- even Ronon paused. It had been the team's mistake. Creatures dropped out of overhanging trees and rushed out of shadows lining the well worn road. They were damn good at playing hide and seek.

Rodney had been first. Michael had let the insects know who was of the most importance. It was a move that wounded Sheppard the most. The friend he could not afford to lose. The brother he never had. While Ronon protected Teyla, John had gone after Rodney's threat. There had been only six of the bug-men, but that had been enough to take the team's number to three.

_Take another step. Put one foot in front of the other. Eat at Joe's…_

Nothing mattered if he didn't make the giant ring. He couldn't lose another brother. Maybe his blood related brother was not dead, but he might as well as have been until recently. They had had no contact, by choice, John's choice. He shook his head; now was not the time for deliberation on old regrets.

"Dial the Gate, John," he reprimanded himself to the air.

_Take that last step home…show Dad what you're made of…show them all you made the right choice…_

Home had been a shifting sand of locations since his entrance into the armed forces. He pressed the buttons for his code to enter the best home he had ever had. A place that felt more like a home instead of the family's giant house in West Palm, even though it was a giant spacecraft floating against all odds on the surface of an alien ocean, in a far away galaxy…

With confirmation received, he sent one final order to those on the other side. Then, he took his last few steps, only to get tackled into the event horizon. John landed and skidded on the hard floor, with a weight crushing him and pinning him in place once he stopped. Bedlam erupted over and around him. Shouts and weapon's fire and a distant thumping, like small birds hitting a window, joined together to overwhelm his senses.

With a final screech, something impacted his back and pressed his body into the floor one more time. All of the air in his lungs escaped and it was a few seconds before he could take a replenishing breath.

"Get it off of him!"

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John pushed both hands against the floor trying to get to all fours once the weight was removed. He clumsily rolled over and sat down. "Need back-up…more of them…things…"

People started issuing requests and orders, "Need med team…" "Maj. Lorne, gear up…" "Dial the planet…"

John sat on the floor and said under his breath, "This's why, Dad." The feeling that someone had his back and his team's. That nothing mattered except the successful completion of the mission, even if that mission involved baby furniture and rescue from mutant man-bugs.

His blood and heart seemed to be draining into his feet. His head felt light as a balloon. Finally, everything went dark and silent and calm. Rebellion, fear, responsibility: all of it swirled away into the pitch blackness of unconsciousness.

----SGA----

"I'm just taking your blood pressure, Colonel," the on-duty nurse explained to calm his startled wakefulness. "Dr. Keller will be by in a few minutes to check on you and to give you an update on your team." She unwrapped the cuff. "Just to let you know, they're doing fine."

At that moment, it was all he cared about. He had had every intention of returning to the planet and leading the rescue…but lacerations coupled with blood loss hindered his well laid out plan. Lorne did just fine without him. The major saved his team and the villagers. The bum.

He vaguely remembered Lorne speaking with him. "Oh sir, good thing you had us raise the shield right after you came through. We registered no less than ten impacts following your return."

Sometimes he made the right decisions at the right time.

"Colonel Sheppard," Keller smiled as she greeted him. He could see why Ronon had taken a liking to her. She exuded vitality and a spark of life that he had probably been sorely missing in his life for nine years. "Let's check those dressings."

She lifted the blanket and pulled it back exposing him to the coolness in the room. "Yep, those things got you in the thigh, hip and…back," she grunted with the last word as she helped him onto his side. "Everything looks good, though."

He grunted this time as he rolled back over. "Good to know, Doc."

Lying on the bed, he realized what he was truly afraid of now. He was afraid that his Dad was right. John Sheppard was afraid that Patrick Sheppard could see what his son was truly capable of and was right all along.

John had been groomed to run an empire and, recently, he had let the running a different kind of empire go. John did not want to deal with all of the crap that came with such a responsibility. He did not want to play the games of politics. He was afraid he would enjoy it because he knew he would be good at it.

Actually, he could have excelled at it. He just did not want to. He would have lost his self respect. He would not have been true to himself. He just wished that he could have figured out a way to tell his Dad that, to make him understand before it had been too late.

Dave had said Dad regretted what had passed between them. But even Dave had not even understood John's motives for being at the wake and funeral. It was out of respect for his old man. John had been so tired of justifying himself to his family he had quit. The only time in his life he had quit anything. And it had been the most important compromise of his life, because neither side had won.

He never really gave a thought of how that would look to his brother. Dave and he had a lot of ground to cover before anything could be healed satisfactorily. Nice thing was: they had time and a start.

Dr. Keller opened the curtains and, for the first time since he had left them in the cave, he saw his team on the other side. Ronon sat in a chair next to McKay and Teyla was in a bed with a BP cuff around her arm. "Just a precaution, John." She smiled her reassuring smile and left it at that.

Nice thing about his life now: he would never run from them. They accepted each other, warts and all. Plus, they would never let him quit, anyway. They were an integral part of each other's lives and it took his Dad's death and this strange band of people for John to mourn letting such a connection with his family slip away.

Live and learn.

The End


End file.
